


Bad Boys

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O Roleplay, Bottom Dean, Breeding Kink, Cock sheaths, M/M, Masturbation, Size Kink, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: “Fuck, Sammy, yes… fuck, harder, please.“Please what?”Sam growls, and that’s when Dean knows he’s been had.“Yes, Alpha.”





	Bad Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I either need better friends or to disconnect from the filthy hive mind that we happen to share. I mean, I wasn't intending to write another kinky-ass fic so soon after the previous one but I literally lay awake until four in the morning thinking about this. I know I already did an A/B/O story earlier but this isn't quite there, just... pretending. Or something. Look, I don't want to talk about it, all I know is that when people (Kat) send me pictures of guys with their holes all wrecked with captions like "Dean after Sam uses his cock sheath on him" well... I can't turn that opportunity down.
> 
> I am the weakest of men, but we all know this by now.

          Dean’s ass is starting to fall asleep. 

          It doesn’t hurt, really, but it’s definitely uncomfortable.  He needs to shift up in the chair, or stand, or _something,_ because he knows it’s only going to get worse with time.  That’s the trouble though – he doesn’t want to move.  Numb ass or not, he’s in a pretty good spot right now.

          He’s had the bunker to himself all day, and after breakfast he’d borrowed Sam’s laptop (his own is still packed in their gear from the last hunt and he just can’t be bothered to go dig it out right now), opened up Chrome, and started down the rabbit hole of porn.  God, he doesn’t miss the days of just skin mags and VHS.  It’s all there, and it’s only to himself that he might be a little addicted.

          The gangbang he was watching fades out, and the next scene in the playlist starts.  It’s not often he indulges in twink porn, but today the mood had hit him.  Smooth bodies, sweet smiles, sharp hipbones that Dean just wants to sink his teeth into, that’s what he’s been about today.

          Why today?  Well, he’d had a dream the night before.  About Sam, when they were younger.  Until he turned seventeen, Sam could have been the _centerfold_ twink.  That shy smile, long hair, and lanky confidence?  Yeah, it all caused Dean his fair share of constant boners often enough.  Even when Sam wasn’t being deliberately provocative, it had still been tough on him.

          Now though, Sam’s all hunky power top under that scholarly exterior.  Honestly, if Dean was ever to ask Sam to make a porno it would be the hot, ripped librarian that fucks him on the checkout desk as repayment for late fees.  Dean isn’t complaining, truly, but he really wishes he’d had nudes of Sam from that time, just to keep the memory going.

          And whenever Sam decides to show up, he’s getting whatever he wants. Dean isn’t trying to come, not right now, just keep things heated and ready.  He doesn’t even have his cock out of his sweatpants, left hand loosely curled around himself as he strokes languidly.  He’s been wet practically since he sat down and can feel the precome where it’s soaked his boxer briefs.

          No harm in tasting himself, after all.

          He makes the video full screen and sucks on his sticky fingers, the middle three being the most coated.  He pays extra attention to his ring finger, loving the taste of salt-sweet against the metal of his wedding band.  He can’t quite imitate the way Sam does it for him, but for his own purposes it’s enough.

          God, he wants Sam right now.  He considers taking a couple of dick pics to send to him, to try and tempt him away from… wherever he is.  He knows that the keys to the Impala are gone, so it likely wasn’t a short trip.  He’s not worried, really, knowing full well that Sam would get in touch if needed.

          He lets the thought of naked Sam drift through his mind, hazy, half-formed images that don’t take away from the porn he’s watching but instead enhance it.  There had been a time when _he_ had looked like that, but Sam had worn it better.  Sam had never been the open flirt Dean had but goddamn, it’s absurd more people haven’t hit on him.  Sam’s fucking hot, and Dean tries to tell him that however he can.

          Dean slips his hand back into his pants and strokes harder this time, drawing his foreskin up and swirling the end of his thumb around inside it.  On screen, the dark haired twink looks up at the guy he’s eating out with startlingly gray eyes, and Dean’s hole twitches in response.  Christ, he wants to be bent in half and tongue fucked like that, and he can’t help but reach down and touch himself there.

          “Dean, c’mon man, we eat here.”

          Dean’s head snaps up and there’s Sam, the slightest dusting of snow in his hair (already?) and two giants bags of books under his arms, giving Dean a long suffering look.  Dean sits up immediately but doesn’t bother to pause the video, hoping that the moans coming from the speakers will tempt Sam out of his heavy coat and into his lap.

          “Hey, I didn’t say anything when you were beating off in here last week, did I?”

          “Yeah, but I do at least try to aim for me instead of… everywhere.”  Sam gestures with his right hand, and alright, he’s got a point.  Dean’s a messy fucking bastard when he’s been edging, and so what if this is his favorite spot to do it?

          Dean doesn’t respond right away, thinking about how Sam likes to nail himself in the face with the long, pretty ropes he shoots.  It’s fucking hot to be on the receiving end of that, the heavy drip of it down Dean’s nose and face.  Like a sniper rifle over Dean’s shotgun.

          “Dean!”

          “Yeah, alright, I’m going – you wanna come?”

          Sam looks Dean up and down, his hand still in his pants and his shirt hiked up.  He’s fully expecting a yes, even if it’s just a quickie.

          “Not… not really.  Later?”  Sam doesn’t even make the effort to look guilty, the bastard.

          “You’re really choosing books over me?”  Dean plays up the mock indignation in his voice, knowing full well Sam has the right to not get off with him every time he’s horny.

          “Look, Dean, I’ll make it up to you later but… I’m just not in the mood right now.”  Sam smiles anyway, and Dean tries really, really hard to look like he’s just had his heart broken – Sam doesn’t buy it for a minute.

          Then again, Sam’s alone time is just as important as his own, even if it isn’t nearly as fun.  “I’ll be in bed if you wanna join.”

          Sam walks over to him and takes off his gloves, tossing them down on the table.  “Doesn’t mean I can’t help a _little.”_

Dean gets a full body shiver as Sam tilts his head back and kisses him deeply, tongue sliding into Dean’s mouth as his left hand finds its way into Dean’s pants, wedding ring warm against his shaft.  He gives Dean three slow, hard strokes and then lets him go, not at all put off by just how wet he is right now.

          Sam breaks the kiss and presses their foreheads together.  “Think about me,” he says, low and gravelly.  “Who knows, it might work for you later.”

          Dean can _definitely_ go on his way with that – Sam even lets him get away with a quick grope through his jeans.  Jesus, even soft Sam’s fairly massive.

          “Don’t get too excited,” Dean says with a grin and laptop still open, is on his way.

          “Don’t get come all over the keyboard again!” 

          Dean will try not to, but he makes no promises.  He’s far from done, and whatever mess that results in he has no control over.

          Sam’s charging cable is still plugged into the wall on his side of the bed, so Dean snags it and plugs in; he’d hate to have it die in the middle of something good.  His t-shirt comes off, as do the sweatpants and underwear.  He does leave his socks on, seeing as how there’s a draft from somewhere and cold feet makes it difficult to stay hard.

          The flannel Sam was wearing yesterday is still on the floor, and Dean puts it on, unbuttoned. It smells like Sam, strong and woodsy, warm too.  When they’re home, Dean’s taken to wearing some of Sam’s clothes, most of the time it’s a shirt.  Sam’s pants are too long and his underwear a touch too loose, his waist narrower than Dean’s.

          Dean puts the collar up to his nose and inhales his husband’s scent deeply, stroking his cock as he does.  He doesn’t think it’s strange to do this, not when they’re fucking married and happier than Dean thought possible.  It’s not that they’re all doe-eyed and weird about it – they isn’t them.

          But after the angels fell, all that time ago, and it dawned on them that in that church they kinda professed their love for each other in that fashion, Sam had rolled with it, and Dean didn’t let himself be stopped.  Sam found a custom ring maker in Phoenix, and that was that.

          Dean still remembers the first time he got fingered open by Sam as his fucking _husband_ and he’d come before Sam even fucked him, sent over the edge by the sensation of his wedding ring bumping against his hole.

          That had been one hell of a night, and it’s still one of Dean’s favorite things to get off to.

          “Fuckin’ hell, Sammy,” he says to no one, and settles back on the bed.  His video is still paused, so Dean takes the chance to look for something else.

          The next one is different, and Dean stops jerking himself off to pay better attention.

          It’s obviously a parody porn, with the actors doing a bad impression of whatever show it is that they are lampooning.  Dean hears werewolves and it’s almost enough to make him laugh and quit, move back to safer territory and keep his edge going.

          He doesn’t stop watching though, because the guy topping’s cock looks… different.

          In a way that cocks aren’t supposed to look, but Dean’s intrigued now.

          Dean pauses it to get a better look, figure out what’s going on.  It’s not the guy’s dick itself (he realizes that he’s watched a couple other scenes with the same model today, and his cock had looked _nothing_ like it does now.)  No, he’s actually wearing some sort of prosthetic, and the way it changes the shape of him well, Dean can’t look away.

          There’s this great big swell towards the base, and Dean watches _intently_ as the top guides himself to his bottom’s hole, watching him push in until that swell is pushing the bottom’s ass apart – and that’s when Dean figures out what’s going on.

          As fast as he can, he grabs his dildo from the nightstand on his side of the bed and lubes it up fast.  And no, he doesn’t think it’s weird that it’s an exact replica of Sam’s cock.  Why on earth would he not want it to be?  Sam knows what the fuck he’s doing with it, and when Sam can’t be there, Dean isn’t going to let it stop him. 

          He lets the video play as he fingers himself open, trying not to lose his rapt focus on what’s happening onscreen.  He absolutely wants to see how this plays out, doing his best to not think about how they’ve killed werewolves, countless times, and that he shouldn’t have a thing for it.  He hasn’t before. 

          Dean knows that as soon as he hears the words “want you to breed me, alpha,” from the bottom’s mouth, he’s fucked.

          Fuck, how many times has he told Sam that, that he wants to be bred and fucked deep?  Walked around with Sam’s come deep inside him, so deep that sometimes it takes hours for it to leak out of him, in the middle of a hunt or just driving to their next port of call.

          Dean fucking loves it, loves that Sam does that for him and even more so willingly.

          He loses his patience and dumps more lube on his dildo, deciding that he’s had less prep with the real thing and never come out from the other side too badly.

          As he starts to slide it home, he does have to close his eyes because even though it’s not Sam, it’s still awfully damn close.  He’s got nearly twenty odd years of this exact scenario to build Sam in his private little fantasy right now, whatever version he wants.

          He goes with Sam a couple days ago, when he’d come into the library where Dean was sharpening his knives and he’d led Dean to the other end of the table and trapped him against it, kissing him because he fucking wanted to and Dean hadn’t been able to move.  It’s something he only admits during sex but fuck _all_ if he doesn’t get off hard when Sam throws their size difference around, holds Dean down and pounds the shit out of him.

          Dean really is ruined for anyone else, and has been from the start.

          “ _Sammy Sammy Sammy”_  he chants, tilting his head back for when Sam starts to kiss his neck as he bottoms out.  He always does that, kisses and caresses Dean so that he can take him easier, no matter if they’re both pissed with each other, they’re roleplaying, whatever – Sam’s got him.  He feels the dildo stop, as deep as it will go.  He’s got it by the base, his grip tight so that it doesn’t slide out.  Sam, of course, can hold himself in this exact position and grind as hard as he wants, driving himself deep so that it feels like the head of his cock is in the back of Dean’s throat.

          Kind of like what’s happening in the porno now.

          Dean sits up a little and pulls the laptop closer with his foot, right hand on his cock, stroking himself with firmer intent than before.  The camera guy who shot this doesn’t even try to pull away from where the two models are connected, that fucking knot opening up the bottom more and more. 

          He doesn’t even realize he’s fucking himself harder than normal until he feels come leak over his fingers, pushed out without even trying.  Dean doesn’t stop, imagining Sam fucking him with his knot, pinning Dean to the mattress and filling him up with his swollen cock.

          “Want you to breed me, Sammy, fuck me with…”

          Dean sounds completely wrecked to himself, like he’s been deep throating Sam for the last half hour.  (Like either of them can hold out that long with each other without effort.) He imagines Sam, growling as he fucks him, _breeding_ him and he doesn’t have time to figure out if this exact thing is actually a thing or if it’s just spur of the moment, but when he imagines Sam’s knot buried completely in him, he comes so hard that he’s sure Sam can hear him.

          He covers himself and the pillows behind him, feeling come splatter against his neck and drip onto Sam’s shirt as well.  He knew it was gonna be a fucking mess but even this is a lot, and he keeps fucking himself until he’s wrung dry and has moaned himself nearly hoarse.

          Dean opens his eyes and surveys the ruination, kind of proud that he’s gonna have to wash the bedclothes once again.  He doesn’t bother with taking Sam’s shirt off either, not until he can get the real thing.  He pulls the dildo out and sets it aside, deciding that he’ll just add it to the list of shit to clean when he gets around to it.  He can’t stand just yet to he pulls his come rag from the same drawer where he keeps his toys and cleans himself up as best he can, licking what of himself he can up.

          He needs to find out how he can get one of those sheaths for Sam, and how fast.

          Dean isn’t ashamed of the porn he watches, but he does open an incognito tab for this.  It doesn’t take long for him to find a website that sells exactly what he’s looking for, and more than that they seem to be _ridiculously_ popular.

          He can’t help but laugh; the very monsters that would kill them in a heartbeat have become fetishized, and the irony isn’t lost on Dean that he’s about to do the exact same thing.  There isn’t a huge range of colors, so dark purple it is.

          His dick throbs at just the thought of how it would contrast with Sam’s skin, and how fucking _huge_ he would look.  God, he isn’t done yet is he, not if he’s already boning up again.

          Dean does make sure to order the large size, as he doesn’t think there’s any way the smaller one would fit.

          Satisfied he’s not going to regret it, he closes everything out, puts his underwear back on, and brings Sam’s laptop back to the library, grinning ear to ear and walking with a pronounced hitch in his step.

          He finds Sam in one of the leather chairs, boots off and socked feet propped up on a large stack of tomes that look like they weight fifty pounds each.  He has his headphones on, buried in one of the books he obtained today.

          Sam doesn’t even notice until too late as Dean plucks the book from his hands and pushes his headphones back, settling into Sam’s lap for a sloppy kiss that he doesn’t try _too_ hard to fight.

          “Thank you, Sammy.”  He kisses Sam’s neck when Sam realizes his shirt is a mess, and no, he isn’t sorry about it.

          “For what?”

          “You made me blow my brains out through my dick.”

          Sam lets his head fall back so that he can look up at Dean, ridiculously beautiful in his warm sweater and hair pushed back from his headphones.  “I did?”

          “Mmhm.”  Dean kisses him again and grinds their hips together, perfectly okay with not having Sam right now.  Sam puts his hands on his hips and squeezes him tightly, making Dean shiver. 

          “Sounded like you did,” Sam says, pulling at Dean’s bottom lip with his teeth.  “Why don’t I go make dinner and see if I can’t make it happen again – especially since I wasn’t there the first time.”

          All jokes aside, Sam is the fucking best and even without dinner in the mix, Dean would be ready to go again in an instant.

          Of course, reheated, post-fuck mashed potatoes at two in the morning is a luxury that _so_ few people truly appreciate.

___

          Crossing over into Smith County from the north side makes roughly four hours of driving in light, lazy snow.

          Which means Sam has been fast asleep for the last three and a half.  There’s always been something about driving in snow that knocks Sam out, and Dean had let him rest.  He’d driven most of the way back from North Dakota until Dean had finally taken over when they stopped for breakfast outside of Omaha.

          Ten days on the road, chasing ghouls.  It hadn’t been a hard hunt, just a long one, and one that had required them to be on the go a lot.

          Yeah, he’s gonna let Sam sleep and just wake him when they get home.  He just hopes that he’s in the mood for getting the sheets sweaty, because he’s horny as _hell._

And he hasn’t forgotten about the purchase he made, either.  It hadn’t arrived by the time they left, and Dean’s careful to not jolt the car as he pulls into the post office parking lot.  It’s difficult to have packages delivered to what’s supposed to be a defunct power station, so he’d set up a P.O. box not long after he had moved in.

          In a town this size, there’s no one else here at this hour.  The snow barely crunches under his feet as he gets out, Sam still knocked out in the passenger seat.

          He gives the lock on their box a few easy turns, getting the combination right on the first try and sure enough, there’s a plain brown box inside it, along with a couple other irregular shaped paper packages – books Sam’s bought from somewhere other than a shop.  He gathers everything up and hurries back to the car, placing everything in the back seat next to the beat up green cooler, long empty of beer and now full of melted ice water.

          Just handling the box already has his cock stirring, and he casts a long look at Sam, slumped down in such a way that anyone else would be wildly uncomfortable.  Dean can’t help but reach between his legs and feel Sam’s soft dick through his pants, only able to imagine how that plus his new toy are going to feel inside him.

          This time, he’s not so gentle about leaving the parking lot and the sudden gunning of the engine awakens Sam.

          “Thanks, Schumacher.”  Sam sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, looking out the window.  “We almost home?”

          “About five minutes.”  Dean knows where he’s going now, and slips his fingers into Sam’s left hand.  “Hungry?”

          He can at least wait for basic needs to be met before he asks Sam to dick him down. 

          To his surprise, Sam shakes his head.  “Nah, just wanna shower.  Think I still have grave dust in my ears.”

          “Hey, I didn’t tell you to throw the dirt above you like that.”  Dean squeezes Sam’s knuckles and Sam laughs, soft and unworried.

          “Because you weren’t digging fast enough.”

          “Sam, I’m never gonna try to win a grave digging race against you.”  Granted, Sam’s arms had been bulging like crazy during but it hadn’t been enough to motivate Dean.

          “Wasn’t a race.”

          Yeah, sure it wasn’t.

          Dean’s relief when they park outside the bunker’s south entrance is immense, and Sam actually beats him to the trunk to grab their duffels.  He gathers up their packages and takes his bag while Sam digs for keys, the snow starting to fall even more heavily.  Dean’s secretly glad for it, because that means Sam will stay in bed with him in the morning instead of going for a run.

          The moment they’re inside the door, Sam gets him by the waist and pulls him in for a hard kiss, one that instantly banishes the cold from Dean’s cheeks and makes his toes curl inside his boots. 

          When Sam doesn’t break it for another twenty seconds, Dean knows that they’re both on the same page.

          “Come shower with me?” 

          As tempting as the idea is, Dean really wants to inspect the sheath before Sam sees it.  “You go ahead, baby boy, I’ll decamp.”

          Sam looks a little put out, but Dean knows that the wait will be more than worth it.  Besides, if he can be open and ready for Sam when he steps out of the shower, all the better.  They have all day tomorrow to tease and touch – right now, Dean wants to get fucking _plowed._

Somehow, they had only managed it once on their latest hunt, and it’s obvious that Sam’s feeling the lack of contact as well.

          All the better.

          “Alright.”  Sam kisses him again and it’s so, so good, sucking Dean’s tongue into his mouth as an absolute promise of things to come.  When Dean gropes him again before he pulls away, Sam’s rock hard.

          “No jerking it in the shower.”  Dean smacks him on the ass as they start down the stairs, and Sam yelps.

          “Do that again and I might.”

          Dean does, and it turns into a chase to their bedroom that Sam barely wins, laughing and cursing the whole way.

          “Cheater,” Dean calls to Sam’s back as he makes off with a clean towel.

          “I’ll make it up to you.”

          Dean waits ten seconds before heading to the door and listening for the sound of water running and soon enough, he hears it.  He knows Sam will be in there for a solid ten minutes, so Dean beats it back to the bed and strips off fast, flinging his clothes this way and that.

          Naked, he opens the box.

          He sets it down in front of him and lifts the sheath out.  It’s encased in black cardboard and while Dean will read about it later, he’s too eager to actually get his hands on it.  Once opened, he finds that it’s softer than he expected, softer than even his dildo.  It doesn’t feel cheap though, and it’s flexible enough to accommodate most anyone with a large dick.

          Yeah, Sam’s not gonna have _any_ problem fitting into it.

          Setting the sheath aside for the moment, Dean works quickly to find the lube.  Of course it’s cold as fuck when he opens it and pours some on his fingers, and applying it makes him grit his teeth.  Sam always warms it up for him but one, Sam’s not here and two, Dean’s excited bordering on impatient.

          Besides, he can’t wait for Sam to come in with him all fours, stretched and ready.  Hearing that low, surprised “Fuck, _Dean”_ when Sam finds him like that is worth it every fucking time.

          He manages to work in four fingers in record time, holding them deep in his ass so he can make his body prepare itself faster.  He’s going to bed a whole hell of a lot of room for Sam _and_ the sheath, and he’s not going to risk not being ready.

          Then again, Sam just fucking him without it at first will help a lot too and honestly, he’d rather have that to start.  Having Sam period is enough.

          This is just an extra.

          Oh, and he’d brushed up on his mating habits of wolves, just to get a better idea.  That knot?  It’s supposed to keep him plugged up and full of come until the alpha is either ready to pull out or he comes again.  Dean’s more than okay with either of those options.

          He also can’t fucking _wait_ to see how Sam reacts when he drops “breed me, Alpha” on him; thinking about it makes his stomach do a slow roll and his lower body light up with all kinds of warmth.

          The distant sound of water shuts off, and Dean waits until Sam’s ten steps away to turn around and present, knowing his ass makes for an enticing sight, all lube slick and stretched.

          “Fuck, _Dean.”_

There it is – Dean smiles and wiggles his hips.  “Now you know why I didn’t wanna join.”

          “’M not complaining.”  Sam crosses the room in four steps, the bed dipping as he kneels on it.  Dean gasps as Sam’s warm, damp hands settle on his hips, moving to his ass to cup and squeeze in appreciation.  “Fucking beautiful.”

          Dean makes his hole wink and looks back at his husband.  “You gonna admire the view or actually do something about?”

          Sam pushes Dean forward onto his stomach and pins him, back to chest, his cock hard against Dean’s ass.  “Mouth off again and I won’t do _anything.”_

Dean laughs and reaches up to pull Sam in for an absolutely filthy kiss, murmuring “that’s my boy” and staying like that while Sam slicks himself up between them.

          Sam’s mouth muffles his moans as he feels the thick, wide head of his cock push into him, feeling twice as big like this, closer than close together.  Dean’s hands get pinned above his head with Sam’s left hand while he steadies his dick with his right, not stopping for even a second – just like Dean wanted.  He bottoms out fast, and Dean’s fingers grip Sam’s hand so tightly that they make the bone shift under his skin.

          “Wanted this for a week, Dean.”  Sam moves right into fucking him, slow and deep.  “Wanted you just like this.”  His lips are wet, hot, against Dean’s neck, and he doesn’t fuck down, he fucks in, driving his cock right against Dean’s sweet spot. 

          It’s heavenly, to be held down and fucked by Sam, his weight blanketing him, _got you Dean_ said in how he makes every movement count.

          Dean turns his head for another kiss, and Sam gives it to him, long enough that Dean’s starting to get lightheaded.  He can feel Sam’s dick opening him up, getting easier for him to handle with every passing minute.  Sam feels it too, the way Dean lets him in, and starts to go a little faster.

          “Feels so fucking good, Sammy, so, _so_ good.”  Dean can’t manage more than that, not when Sam’s cock fills him up every single time he fucks back into his body.  He’s already starting to feel way too close to the edge, Sam doing what Sam does best and finding his limits without any trouble whatsoever.

          “Yeah, Dean?”  Sam picks himself up to his hips more leverage, grinding into him with torturous little flicks of his hips.  “Like my cock deep in your ass, making you beg for more?”

          “Fuck, Sammy, yes… fuck, _harder, please.”_

“Please _what?”_

Sam growls, and that’s when Dean knows he’s been had.

          “Yes, _Alpha._ ”

          Sam slams into him and bites at the nape of his neck, sharp and quick.  “Good boy.”

          Oh, Dean is absolutely, truly, 100% _fucked._

Sam drives hard into him a couple more times and then stops, bending back over Dean’s body and putting his mouth right to his ear.

          “Put it on for me.”

          Dean had stashed the sheath under his pillow and it’s with no small amount of disappointment that Sam pulls out, sitting back on his haunches and his cock throbbing hard.  Precome leaks from the tip and Dean very badly wants to taste, but no, not right now, not when he’s about to be fucked to hell and back.

          Sam watches Dean with complete focus as he lubes up the inside of the sheath and pulls it down Sam’s cock, noticing how even though it’s the biggest on he could get Sam still fills it out completely.

          When he pulls Sam’s balls through the rubber holder at the bottom and sees the built in knot swell up enticingly huge, he nearly loses it.

          “Sam, you need to-”

          Sam flips him over so fast that Dean doesn’t have time to let his brain adjust to the change in perspective.  All he can think about is getting stuffed full of Sam, no, his _Alpha,_ and letting whatever happens from that, happen.

          He’s just glad to see that Sam isn’t running from this.

          “Gonna breed you deep, Dean.”  The soft, not quite skin texture of the sheath is cool, but not unpleasant, especially with Sam pouring absolutely nasty shit into his ear.  “Gonna make you take my knot until you’re so full of come it leaks out for a week.

          Dean doesn’t squeak, he absolutely doesn’t, especially when Sam spreads his ass open even more with his hands to get even deeper.  “ _Please.”_

He’s never been so fucking full in his _life,_ not even when Sam had used a cock pump.  This is a whole different level of fucked up-good, and Dean knows it’s going to be awfully hard to not ask for every time.

          “Love it when I hear my omega beg.”

          Oh, _shit._

Sam feels how Dean shifts, like he’s trying to get even more of Sam in him.  “Isn’t that right, Dean, my pretty little omega, so eager to get his ass stuffed and creamed.”

Dean can’t fucking breathe right now.  This is dangerous, on every possible level, and he wants _more._

          “Knock me up, Sammy, want… want your pups.”

          Sam growls, and Dean knows that all he can do now is hold on.  If this is taking it too far, Dean doesn’t want to know when they passed the limit.

          The sheath makes Dean’s ass stretch so much that it _should_ hurt – but it doesn’t, not when it makes every nerve in his lower body light up like a supernova.  Sam fucks him deep, slightly faster than slow but it’s enough, _God_ it’s enough, opening Dean up more and more so that he can give him his knot.

          He can feel its round, teasing edges every time Sam fucks back into him, his hands braced above Dean’s shoulders and his wet hair flinging drops of sweat and water all over the place.  They trade hard, biting kisses that will leave both of them with bruises on their mouths come morning but he just doesn’t fucking _care,_ way too caught up in this, this immensely sinful fantasy that two weeks ago, he didn’t even know he wanted.

          “Getting so close, Dean, gonna give my omega what he wants.”  He hauls Dean up onto all fours with his right arm, keeping it wrapped around him, diagonal up to his chest.  He thrusts harder, deeper, and the knot pushes halfway into Dean, close to finishing him right there.  His cock is dripping come and precome nonstop, almost numb he’s so fucking _hard._

“Sam… Sammy…”

          Sam gets his left hand on him, and the touch of his wedding ring against his shaft makes him see stars.  Dean slams his hips back against Sam and the knot fills him, Sam so fucking deep in him that it feels like he’s at the back of his throat.

          “ _DeanDeanDeanDean,”_ is all he hears, and Sam screams into his neck as he comes, thrusting his hips in sharp, jerky motions that hit Dean just right one too many times.

          His world implodes, and Dean’s entire body goes white-hot, coming so hard he feels his spine liquify.

          Whatever mess there is, he doesn’t get the chance to see it.

___

          Dean awakens to soft, warm lips on his back and shoulders, Sam’s strong arms keeping him on his side against his body.

          “There you are,” he murmurs, as quiet as can be.  “Was getting concerned I fucked you to death.”

          “Me?  Never.”  Dean turns his head and captures Sam’s mouth in a kiss, easy and inviting in a way that none of the kisses they had shared earlier were.

          Speaking of…

          “How did you know?”

          Sam nuzzles his cheek and gently rubs his stomach with his fingertips.  “You didn’t clear out where you’d checked the package being tracked – they do list the contents of those, you know.”

          Dean doesn’t quite blush, but he does look away.  “Can’t help that they’re thorough.”

          “Yeah, well, I looked up what the hell it was you had bought and decided that there are weirder things to be into.”  Sam kisses the back of his ear and huffs contentedly, like he didn’t just go alpha-power-top filthy on him.

          “Yeah, I could be into gasmasks and farting into them to smell it.”

          Sam pinches his hip, hugging Dean even tighter when he bows away from him.  “Don’t ruin the mood.”

          “Hey, you’re the one who brought it up, I was just contributing to the conversation.”

          Instead of giving him one of his trademark long-suffering glares, Sam kisses him until Dean is as quiet as the falling snow outside.

         

         

         

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not saying that Dean didn't buy Sam a Bad Dragon toy, but I'm also not NOT saying it...
> 
> What, did you think I was making it up?


End file.
